


Timestamps:  Falling Off the Face of the Earth

by Teeelsie



Series: Falling 'Verse [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Clint Barton Whump, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Tony Stark, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 03:42:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17216351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teeelsie/pseuds/Teeelsie
Summary: What it says on the tin.





	Timestamps:  Falling Off the Face of the Earth

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will be a series of outtakes and timestamps for the 'verse created in my fic, "Falling Off the Face of the Earth", because even though that fic was loooong, I'm not quite ready to be done with these two yet. These timestamps will likely bounce all over the place - Czechia, the bunker, the hospital, the Avengers Compound, Clint's farm - as the muse strikes and ideas come to me. I always feel weird about suggesting people read my work, but in this case, these chapters probably won't make much sense if you haven't read the first fic.
> 
> This first chapter is a cleaned-up and expanded outtake from the last chapter of the original fic. I initially wrote 7K of epilogue and then pretty much trashed the whole thing and started over because it was... trash. I did like this scene but couldn't make it work in the rewrite, so, here, have a deleted scene from the Hydra bunker.
> 
> Not beta'd because it's the holidays and I thought I should give my betas a break.

 

His hand shakes so badly that he fumbles with the phone and misses the button for the pre-programmed number the first time. When he finally hits the right one, the ringing is tinny as he stares at the red smears on screen. The call connects before the first ring even finishes, and he blinks, startled, before he moves the phone to his ear.

 

“Clint! Where are you? We’ve been trying to reach you for weeks!” Steve’s voice is urgent, worried.

 

Relief washes over him but he hesitates, words stuck in his throat. Then his eyes land on the bloody body on the bed. “No. Steve. It’s me.”

 

“Bucky?”

 

He squeezes his eyes shut. “Yeah.” It’s barely more than a whisper.

 

“Thank God.” He can hear Steve's relief in the way he pushes the words out. “Where are you? Is Clint with you? Are you two alright?”

 

He opens his eyes and looks at Clint, pale and bloody and terrifyingly still. “No, I… Steve, Clint needs help.”

 

***

 

When Steve steps into what looks like some kind of old laboratory, he doesn’t see them right away. But then he hears a noise, maybe a boot scraping on the floor, and he turns and squints into the dim light. The knot in his chest loosens considerably when he makes out that it’s Bucky, sitting against the far wall cradling something in his arms. When he steps closer, his chest tightens again because it’s Clint that Bucky’s clutching to himself, limp and wrapped in a blanket. Bucky has one arm snaked protectively around Clint, the fingers of his hand resting gently on the pulse point on Clint’s neck; the other hand is pointing a gun at Steve.

 

Bucky’s eyes look wild, fearful and threatening, and the hand holding the gun is shaking noticeably. “Bucky, it’s me,” Steve says quickly, arms out to the side as he takes a couple steps further into the room.

 

“ _Steve,_ ” Bucky breathes out and then drops his gun hand.

 

Steve darts over to the two of them. Bucky’s got a good amount of dried blood painting the side of his face from an obvious head wound and he seems dazed, but otherwise okay. But Clint… Clint looks bad. Half his face is swollen and purple; he's sporting a large gash across his cheekbone. And there’s a lot of blood. His face and head are covered with it, there's some pooled in his ear, smeared down his neck, and saturated a good part of his shirt. Even in the low light he looks ghostly white. His breathing is too shallow for Steve’s liking.

 

“Buck, what happened?” he asks as he kneels down beside them, but Bucky doesn’t answer. “Tony,” Steve says, turning his head slightly to call out over his shoulder while his eyes continue to search Bucky’s face.

 

“On it,” he hears Tony answer from behind him.

 

Bucky comes out of his fugue at that and his face contorts angrily as he raises the gun again, quickly cocking it. “What the hell is he doing here?” he snarls, shifting protectively over Clint.

 

Steve turns to look at his friend, who is standing motionless in the doorway, hands up to show they're empty.

 

“So, Cap, you wanna tell the bionic man that I come in peace?” Tony quips lightly, but his dark eyes are focused intensity.

 

Steve turns back to the two on the floor. “It’s okay, Buck.”

 

Bucky’s eyes dart between him and Tony, but the gun stays fixed on Stark.

 

Slowly, taking care to telegraph his movement, Steve shifts so that he’s between Tony and any bullet. “Buck, it’s alright. He really is here to help.” As he says it, he extends his right arm so his hand hovers above Bucky’s and the gun. “Trust me.”

 

There’s a fraught moment while Bucky flicks his eyes between Steve and Tony, before the line of Bucky’s shoulder relax fractionally. Steve exhales quietly and slowly presses Bucky’s hand downward until the gun is pointing at the ground; a second later he hears Tony murmuring quietly to Friday.

 

Bucky finally drops the gun altogether, and then ignores Tony’s presence as his moves his attention back to Steve. “He needs help. He hasn’t woken up since I called you. He, he needs a doctor, Steve.” Bucky sounds frantic, and desperate, and not at all like the stoic friend Steve had finally managed to track down the year before.

 

Steve doesn’t need to look at his watch to know what that means in terms of how long Clint’s been like this. He and Tony had been at the Avengers’ Compound, still working to figure out where Bucky and Clint had disappeared to. They’d been monitoring Ross’ movements for months so it hadn’t taken long to piece things together enough to realize that the house his forces had attacked in Czechia belonged to Clint, and that Clint and Bucky had likely been there until the attack. Friday had tapped into every computer network she could worldwide looking for any trace of them, but they’d found nothing; it was like they’d completely disappeared off the face of the earth. When he’d gotten the call from Bucky out of the blue, they grabbed a quinjet and left immediately, but Bratislava is half-a-world away from upstate New York and it had taken them several hours to get there.

 

“Alright, Buck, helps on the way, okay?” Steve instinctively cranes his head around to quickly check Tony. He’s still murmuring quietly to his AI, but Steve can see that his eyes are actively scanning the laboratory, taking in every detail.  

 

“Let me take a look, okay?” Steve pries Bucky’s reluctant fingers from around Clint and gently rolls his limp body so that he’s lying on his back on the floor. As he eases him down with one hand carefully cradling Clint’s head, he can feel the large lump that’s formed there, and once Clint’s situated and Steve takes his hand away, he finds it’s dotted with tacky blood.

 

Bucky doesn’t say anything, just strips off his shirt, folds it haphazardly, and places it with pronounced care under Clint’s head.

 

“Was this a Hydra base, Buck? Are they still around?” Steve eyes shoot apprehensively around the room.

 

Bucky shakes his head. He’s shifted so that he’s sitting against the wall, knees tucked up and arms wrapped around them, but his eyes are still locked on Clint. “It’s just been the two of us here,” he answers expressionlessly.

 

Steve starts a cursory field exam, sliding a loose palm down the arm that doesn’t already have visible damage. “How did this happen?” he asks quietly, afraid of the answer even as he asks the question.

 

Bucky lifts his head and meets Steve’s eyes. “The Winter Soldier,” he says, not shying away from the answer. A second later, though, he squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head once as though trying to chase the thought away. When he opens his eyes his focus immediately returns to Clint.

 

Steve nods mildly. “That knock on your head get rid of him?” Steve asks calmly, gesturing with his chin at the bloody cut on Bucky’s temple while his hands continue their exam.

 

Bucky nods. “Yeah. Clint managed it somehow,” he says, and Steve could swear he hears pride in the words. “Not before I messed him up, though,” he adds darkly.

 

Steve shakes his head, hands still moving. “Not you, Buck.”

 

Bucky snorts bitterly.

 

Steve’s fingers feel an anomaly at Clint’s wrist and he pauses to bend down and take a closer look. His gut twists a little at the multiple thin, red lines that wrap around the top of it. When he reaches across to Clint’s other hand, there are corresponding lines there. The picture of futile desperation they paint in Steve’s mind is too disturbing to stop and think about, so he quickly moves on.

 

“Hey, Steve,” he hears Tony say from across the room.

 

Bucky jerks and tenses as Steve flicks a brief glance toward Tony.  He's got his nose in some papers that are on the lab table, but Steve keeps his attention focused on the two in front of him. “Bucky, this isn’t your fault. You’ve got to know that,” he says as he continues to catalog Clint’s condition. His fingers are splinted and the bandages are far from clean, so an older injury. Steve’s fingers move up that arm until they ghost over a large lump on Clint’s clavicle and he tugs at the shirt to take a closer look. Even in the dim light the displaced fracture is obvious.

 

“You can say that all you want, but it’s not going to change the fact that it was my hands that caused every injury you’re finding there.” Steve’s struck that the self-loathing in his voice is ten times more pronounced than it had been in Berlin, the first time they had a conversation like this.

 

“Cap,” Tony calls, a little louder this time.

 

“If this is anyone’s fault, it’s mine,” Steve counters, glancing up at Bucky, then back down at Clint. He grasps the material of his shirt at the collar and carefully rips it apart to expose Clint’s chest. There’s a large discoloration there; it’s old, faded to a scant, sickly green and yellow, but it must have been one hell of a bruise for a while. He skirts his fingers over each rib; if they were broken, they’ve apparently healed now.  “I could tell something was off that night in Wakanda but I sent you with him anyway. If the Winter Soldier did this, then I’m to blame, not you,” he points out, guilt settling in nicely.

 

Bucky shakes his head. “No, I was fine, until—” he stops, brows knit together. “What’s the date?”

 

“January 21st,” Steve tells him.

 

“Five weeks ago,” Bucky sighs. “I was fine until five weeks ago.”

 

The blanket has fallen away and Steve’s just noticed that there’s blood on Clint’s leg. He shifts and tears open the dark sweatpants. There’s a large swath of gauze wrapped around Clint’s thigh. It’s bled recently but appears to have stopped.  “What happened five weeks ago, Buck?”  Five weeks would correspond to Ross’ attack on the Czechia house. “Was it Ross? Did he do this to Clint?”

 

“What?"  Bucky shakes his head.  "No, I told you, it’s my fault.”

 

“But did Ross trigger the Winter Soldier into play?”

 

“I don’t… I don’t remember how it happened, but they came after. I think they tracked the phone after I tried to call my old handlers.” He flashes guilty eyes at Steve. “Clint told me not to use the phone. When they came I brought him here.”

 

“Well then you saved his life, Buck. Because Ross was there to kill you both.”

 

Bucky doesn’t answer, just shakes his head.

 

Steve decides against unwrapping the leg bandages since he doesn’t have anything to rebind it. “Look, Buck, we’re going to get Clint some help and then we’re going to get the two of you home, okay?”

 

“Yeah? What then?” he asks, flicking his eyes toward Stark and back to Steve.

 

“Then you’ll be safe. Both of you. A lot’s happened since you fell off the grid—"

 

“Hey, _Rogers!_ ” Tony yells, clearly impatient now.

 

Steve jerks his head around. _“What?”_ he barks, annoyance flaring at the repeated interruptions, but he quickly reins it in because friction won't help their situation right now.

 

“I think you want to see this, _oh Captain, my Captain,_ ” he quips, but Steve sees his worried eyes make a discerning sweep over Clint.

 

Steve’s brain finally catches up to the fact that beneath the glibness, there’s urgency in Tony’s expression and a tenseness to his demeanor that belies the superficial, and that’s something Steve’s learned to not ignore.  

 

He turns back to Bucky. “Wrap him back up, keep him warm.” Bucky stares blankly, then blinks and nods his head once. Steve puts a reassuring hand on Bucky’s knee for a second, then stands and makes his way across the room.

 

“What?” he asks again, though with interest and not frustration this time. Tony shoves some papers into his hands without comment. “What is this?” he asks, eyes rapidly scanning the pages.

 

Tony doesn’t answer, instead stays quiet and lets Steve read for himself. After he’s skimmed through them, he cranes his head around. “Bucky, where did these come from?”

 

Bucky looks up, still half-dazed. It crosses Steve’s mind that he might be in shock. “I… I don’t know. Clint found them. I…” he stops and shakes his head, his voice trailing off as he refocuses on Clint, tucking the blanket closer around him and placing his fingers back on the pulse point.

 

Steve frowns and turns back to Tony. “Is this what I think it is?” he asks low and quiet, shooting another quick glance over at the other two men.

 

“If you think it might be the answer to how to get rid of the Winter Soldier once and for all, then, yeah, I think it might be what you think it is.”

 

Steve sucks in a quick breath. He turns and squints at the chair he'd half-registered when he first entered the room, then down at the drawing in is hand. They don’t look quite the same. “It's not—" he says, and when he looks up again he notices for the first time that Tony already has what looks like a few pieces of the apparatus on the work surface.

 

“Way ahead of you,” Tony says, turning over a piece in his hand and craning his neck to see the plans in Steve’s. Steve sets the schematics down on the table so Tony can read them more easily.

 

“Do you… do you think you can fix it?” Steve breathes, barely letting himself hope.

 

Tony's hands keep working even as he makes a disgruntled noise and shoots an offended look at Steve.  “You seriously did not just question my ability to put together 70-year-old tech, did you? I don’t think they even called it tech back then. It was just… machinery.”

 

Steve can't help how his lips quirk up at the corners. “Sorry, Tony.”

 

Tony stops and considers him for a moment. “I’m going to allow that since we’re still in the kumbaya stage of our much anticipated reunion show, but don’t let it happen again,” Tony chastens before going back to fiddling with the parts in his hands. A second later, they seem to slot together and Tony’s eyes gleam.

 

Steve hears something in the distance and cocks his head, listening.

 

Tony freezes. “What?”

 

“Vehicle. The ambulance Friday called?”

 

Tony nods and returns to his work.

 

Across the room, Bucky has picked up the pistol again.

 

Steve walks back toward the two men on the floor. “Stand down, Buck. It’s just the paramedics.”

 

“Military?” he asks with an edge of panic. “Ross—”

 

“Is out of the game for good,” Steve interrupts. “It’s a local ambulance.” He and Tony had discussed it on the flight in. They agreed that if they found either Clint or Bucky needed it, they’d call the closest help available and try to avoid military involvement. A moment later, two paramedics race into the room then stop when they see Bucky with the gun. Steve steps between them, facing Bucky, his hands open at his sides again. “Like I said, Buck, a lot has happened since you guys disappeared. I’ll explain it all later, but for now, I promise, you’ll be safe.” Steve doesn’t miss the way Bucky’s eyes slide to Clint and his grip gets fractionally tighter. “You both will,” Steve adds.

 

There’s a tense minute where no one moves and it feels like no one breathes. “Bucky,” Steve exhorts quietly. “Clint needs help. Let these guys do their job.”

 

Bucky looks from the medics back to Steve, then slowly flips the gun around to hold it out, grip-first.  Steve lets out a relieved breath and steps close to take the pistol. As soon as he does, the paramedics rush to Clint and immediately start their triage.

 

“His head,” Bucky chokes. “He hit his head really hard.”

 

“How long ago?” one asks him in heavily-accented English.

 

“Um…” Bucky furrows his brow as he stares at Clint.

 

“Seven hours, give or take,” Steve fills in for him.

 

“Has he been unconscious the whole time?”

 

“The first couple of hours he was in and out, but he wasn’t making any sense,” Bucky answers.

 

Their hands never stop working but Steve doesn’t miss the significant look that passes between them. Thankfully Bucky is too focused on Clint to see it.

 

One of the medics eyes Bucky carefully, then shifts toward him. “Let me take a look at your head,” he says, reaching out his hand.

 

Bucky jerks his head and bats the arm away and both paramedics freeze. Bucky growls something that Steve can only assume is in Slovenian and gestures at Clint.

 

“Buck,” Steve says with only mild censure.

 

Bucky flicks his eyes to Steve and back down at Clint. “You know I’m fine, Steve,” Bucky snaps. “The serum did it’s job,” he adds bitterly.

 

“It’s okay,” Steve nods to the paramedics. “It’s fine, keep going.”

 

The two men share a nervous glance before one takes out a pair of scissors to finish the job that Steve had started on Clint's shirt, and the other digs into the duffle of supplies they’d brought. Steve and Bucky watch silently as they work quickly and efficiently to wrap a cervical collar around Clint's neck and insert a port into the back of his hand to get fluids and drugs into him.

 

“Hey, Steve,” he hears Tony call to him again. Feeling useless anyway, this time Steve turns immediately and crosses to the lab table where Tony is still working.

 

“Did you find something new?”

 

“No. I was just thinking,” he says and gestures very subtly at the medics across the room. “How long do you think we have before word gets out and somebody shows up here to investigate?” he asks quietly.

 

Steve looks around uneasily, the implications of what Tony’s said hitting him hard. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, thinking. “Maybe a week.”

 

“Always an optimist, Cap, that’s what I like about you,” Tony says. “But in case you missed it, your buddy over there isn’t wearing a shirt and he has a black, metal arm. I guarantee these two share that little fact the minute they get back. It takes a day, maybe two at most before rumors get to someone high enough and interested enough to actually ask some questions, then maybe another day or two before they send someone official to take a look. I figure we’ve got three, four days, tops. But since I’m a pessimist, I’d say it’s probably going to be more like two.”

 

He’s probably right. “Your point?”

 

Tony pauses, then, “Go with Barton. It shouldn’t take me more than a day or so for me to get that fucking chair working again. Leave Barnes here with me and I’ll bring him back to you a real boy. We'll take care of this place before we leave.”

 

Steve’s shaking his head before Tony even finishes. “I’m not leaving Bucky.”

 

“Yeah, I get he’s your boo, but someone needs to go with Barton, because you and I and the rest of the Avengers may all be playing nice again, but I’m not 100% convinced that Ross doesn’t still have players on the field. Are you?”

 

Steve hesitates; he knows where this is going and he doesn’t particularly like it. “Tony…” he says warily.

 

“Come on, Cap. Even if it’s only the locals here now, you know it’s only a matter of time before word gets out that the Winter Soldier is here and Hawkeye is down and vulnerable. It’s time to put your money where your mouth is, Rogers; either we trust each other or we don’t. I trust _you,_ but I sure as hell don’t trust all the other possible players out there. If you’re not going with Barton, then I am, because I’m not going to leave him on his own. But if I do that, then we lose our chance here and you’ll still have one potentially brainwashable cyborg on your hands.”

 

Steve gives him a quelling look. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Tony. It’s just… Dammit!  I don’t want to let Bucky out of my sight again.”

 

“Okay, I get that, ‘cause like I said, I’m not too keen on watching Barton disappear in the back of an ambulance with unknowns, so you see my point, right?”

 

Steve still hesitates, staring at Bucky while he runs the alternatives in his head.

 

“Steve,” Tony says and Steve turns. “I can fix him," he says quietly, and there isn’t a trace of Tony’s usual glibness, only a serious intensity that Steve rarely sees.

 

Steve wipes a hand down his face. “Yeah, okay,” he sighs. He curls a glance back toward Bucky who is hovering over the paramedics looking like it’s killing him to have them touching Clint while he sits to the side. “I think it’s going to be harder to convince Bucky, though.”

 

“Yeah, well, I’ll leave that problem to you,” Tony says, already turning his attention back to the puzzle of components he’s gathered onto the lab table.

 

Steve sighs deeply, then walks over to Bucky and gently tugs him up by his arm, maneuvering them into a corner where they can speak somewhat privately. Bucky goes grudgingly, but never takes his eyes from Clint’s prone form.

 

“Bucky, I’m going to go with Clint. I need you to stay here with Tony.” That gets Bucky’s attention and his eyes snap to Steve, who’s already put his hands up placatingly before Bucky can say anything. “Listen, Buck. Those papers Clint found explain how to get rid of the Winder Soldier,” he says quietly, watching to make sure the medics don’t show any interest in them; they’re busy with Clint and pay no attention.

 

“What?” Bucky asks, eyes sharp and more animated than Steve’s seen since they arrived.

 

Steve nods. “You heard me right. But Tony needs to fix the chair in order to reverse the programming and that’s going to take a little time. I’ll go with Clint and make sure he’s safe but you need to stay here and work with Tony.”

 

Bucky’s eyes bounce between Steve, Clint, and Tony several times. He looks torn but doesn’t say anything, so Steve continues. “I know what you’re thinking, but you have to trust him.” Bucky’s mouth forms a firm line as he looks toward Tony. “ _Bucky_ ,” Steve says, and his friend shifts his gaze back.

 

“I killed his parents. He wants me dead.”

 

Steve shakes his head. “I told you, a lot has happened since Siberia.”

 

“Yeah? You’re saying suddenly he doesn’t care that I murdered his parents?”

 

Steve spares his own glance at Tony who is still focused on the task in front of him. “I’m saying he’s had time to think things through a little more and he understands that there’s a bigger picture here. I’m saying I trust him, and right now you can trust him, too.”

 

Bucky’s eyes return to Clint, drawn like a magnetic needle to true north. “I’m not leaving Clint,” he says, shaking his head.

 

“I’ll go with him and I swear I’ll keep him safe, Buck. But you need to stay here and let Tony try to reverse the programming. I’ll stay in touch and let you know what’s happening, I promise.”

 

“I…”

 

“Bucky, this might be the only shot we get and we don’t have much time to take it. _Please._ ”

 

Bucky finally looks Steve full-on in the face. He studies his eyes for a moment and whatever he sees there is apparently enough because a second later he nods his head minutely. “Okay.”

 

Steve drops his head and lets out a quick relieved breath, then looks over to where the medics are loading Clint onto a gurney. Bucky’s already making his way over them. He says something to them in Slovenian and after exchanging a look, the two paramedics move a few steps away. Bucky takes Clint’s good hand in his own, bends over and murmurs something in Clint’s ear, then places a gentle hand on his head for a second before straightening up again. The medics quickly return and start wheeling Clint away.

 

Steve spares one last glance at his two friends - who are eyeing each other warily - then ducks out the door after the paramedics.  

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I think there will be a sort of part two to this - where Bucky and Tony are working together in the bunker because I want to explore them coming to terms with each other and healing a bit. That one is only in my head though, so no telling how soon I'll get it written. Meanwhile, if there are other things readers particularly want to see, go ahead and ask. I never promise, but I never know what will spark an idea for me.
> 
> Comments are a fic writer's lifeblood, so if you're so inclined, I sure do love to hear what you think. Either way, thanks for reading!
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